


Se plaire

by zvi



Category: Les liaisons dangereuses | Dangerous Liaisons - Choderlos de Laclos
Genre: F/F, Frottage, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zvi/pseuds/zvi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>La Marquise de Merteuil prides herself on impulse control. But occasionally she lets go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Se plaire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aeriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeriel/gifts).



> Takes place between 8 and 10 September, after the events of letter 63.

I do not, of course, tell the complete truth to the Vicomte de Valmont.

He is, after all, the man with whom I conspire and delight in all manner of passions, the man whom I made my confidante _because_ he is a traitor. How could I possibly tell him everything?

And yet, the things I keep from him are not those most dangerous to my reputation as a good and honest widow. I do not fear he will share these with the world, both because of his secret that I know and because it is clear it amuses him greatly to know that which others do not. No, the things I keep from my letters are my failures of discipline, the ways he could distract me or misdirect my attention. I keep from him the things that might render him…dangerous to me.

The Volanges girl is just such a liaison. She is so hungry and willing, but she does not know what it is she wants, what she is grasping at, and the temptation to teach her everything to please me, to turn her into my own little slave, it is nearly irresistible. Yesterday, I stopped resisting.

I convinced her mother that an evening with me at the Opera was neither a danger to her daughter's virtue nor an unearned reward for the prisoner, but, rather, a diversion from thoughts of the Chevalier Danceny.

The performance was exceptional, the story a lurid tale of a priest failing to reform several fallen women, and instead being made over by the women into a libertine. My little Volanges was herself quite ensnared by the spectacle of women in little more than corsets singing and dancing around a tall, handsome man who, by the end of the production, wore no more than hose and shirt. She babbled, as we made our way from our seats to our carriage, about how moving the singing was and how sad the story, but this talk of art kept devolving into the subject of bodies and movement. She was really quite worked up, flushed face, eyes gleaming. She had one hand at her bosom, holding her cloak around her shoulders; I watched for nearly a quarter of an hour as her fingers caressed her own breasts, in a manner both brazen and unaware.

I was unable to pass by such a delightful offering. Instead of taking the girl to her mother, I pretended that it was too late for the child to go home. I brought her to my townhouse instead.

I kept Mademoiselle's blood hot all the way home: little pets of her arm and strokes of her hair, and I encouraged her natterings over the beauty — the desirability — of the actresses.

Once home, I told la petite Volanges that I would serve as her lady's maid, because I wished to save my maid extra work. I really could not tell if it was stupidity or desire that led her to accept such a nonsensical lie.

In any case, because I had truly not intended to seduce the girl that evening, none of the guest rooms was ready for receiving. That suited my purposes well enough, and she was simply thrilled when I told her that we were forced to share a bed that night.

She was all the more excited when I asked her to serve as my lady's maid, in turn. She was actually quite nimble with my clothing. (I had the impression that she had acted in similar capacity at the convent.) Nevertheless, I felt my first rush of pleasure from directing her movements explicitly, directing her fingers across my skin, telling her first to unbutton that and then to untie this. Once she caught the game of it, she waited after she completed each command, panting slightly as she looked at me, looked for my next order. By the time she had reached my stockings, we no longer needed words between us—I gave a stern look and a small tilt of my head, and she rushed to do my bidding.

When we stood bare before one another, I lifted the bedclothes and gestured for her to climb the bed. The silly thing only then seemed to notice her nudity, for she jumped and clasped her hands in front of her pudenda and looked wildly about, as if she expected a nightgown to leap out and throw itself at her.

Go on, I said and grabbed her bottom to push her towards the bed. We will be quite comfortable as we are, with two of us in the bed. The weather has not yet begun to cool.

She giggled and climbed on. I did not know whether or not to believe that all of her ass wiggling was deliberate. She did it to entice, clearly, but whether or not she knew what she was doing, it was impossible to say.

I blew out the candles and climbed into bed myself. I drew the girl to me, pressed her body against mine, breast against breast. We were breathing in one another's air, in the dark and the cool, and I felt her shivering against me, rubbing against me deliberately as well. Come, _chèrie_ , I said, come closer. I brought my legs around the outside of hers, and pulled her tighter against me, until the hairs of our cunts mashed together, until I could feel all that sweet, young softness push into my own skin.

May I kiss you?, she whispered to me, very sweetly. I laughed. I couldn't help it. We were naked, gripped tightly to one another, and she asked if she could kiss me. Instead of answering her, I bent my face to hers and kissed her. It started as a soft brush of lips, and then she opened her mouth beneath mine.

I opened to meet her, but I waited, made no other move. I wanted to see where her own eagerness and longing would bring her. She did not disappoint me, sucking and worrying at my lower lip, making little whines of dissatisfaction. Her hands, on my back, clutched at me. She tightened her arms to bring her body harder against mine, and I felt her wetness on my thigh.

She was so open and ready, practically begging to learn what I could teach her. I stroked my hand softly up her side, and she shivered beneath my fingers. May I touch you like that? she whispered.

I did not answer, just took her palm and placed a kiss on it, then placed her hand upon my breast. She squeezed, sudden and hard, then pulled her hand away. She put it back more gently, a stroke that ended with a slow caress of my nipple. Do the same to me, she begged.

I did, her small, sweet breasts not quite filling my hands. I had to have more of her, was suddenly starving for her, so I bent my head and suckled. She gasped and squirmed, but she also held my head to her breast. Madame, she gasped. Madame, I feel…, and she grunted and stiffened, and I knew that she had spent, just from my mouth and hand upon her breasts and her excitement. She sighed and slumped into me. Madame, I have never felt so, before.

There is more to this, to the way women lie with one another. Shall I teach you, _ma puce_?

I want very much for you to teach me. In all the ways of the world, Madame, she said, breathing into my mouth.

I kissed her, very hard and very deep. Then I took her hand and brought it between my legs. This nub here, it is the end and the beginning of a woman's pleasure. I could not wait any longer for my own satisfaction. And because there was no reason not to, no further consequence to be feared after all of the night's other activities, I took it.


End file.
